Episodes in the Life of Hubert Vincent Davis, Sr. - Part 2, Episodes 5 and 6

Episodes in the Life of Hubert Vincent Davis, Sr. - Part 2, Episodes 5 and 6

Part 2 is the second of five that comprise the autobiography of Hubert (Hu) Vincent Davis, Sr. The other parts have been also added to FamilySearch and tagged to Hu for all to read. Hu, also known widely as "Hubie," wrote the entire treatise at the age of 84.

EPISODE #5 - WORLD WAR I ARMY SERVICE (1917 – 1919)

The 71st Regiment of the New York State National Guard was under the command of the Governor of New York. Drill was held at the armory on weekends until the unit was federally recognized as a part of the U.S. Army under command of the President of the United States. War was officially declared against Germany on April 6, 1917.

Mobilization of federal troops began immediately and we were put on the federal payroll and ordered to permanent duty. Pay was $15.00 a month. All troops reported to the armory daily and experienced eight hours of drill, use and maintenance of the rifle, and other military matters.

Because of fear of sabotage to transportation and water supply the regiment was assigned to guard duty on bridges and water mains supplying N.Y. City. The first battalion of the 71st Regiment set up headquarters in Middletown, N.Y. The first squad of Company K, of which I was a member, was assigned to guard a railroad bridge. "Standing Guard" meant each of us had to walk our post four hours, after which we got eight hours off duty.

We took our meals at a farm house close by to which we walked. A short cut across a cow pasture saved quite a bit of time, but one day I noticed that the pasture had suddenly become a bull pen. I found this out when I was half way across the field and a big bull was staring at me and pawing the ground in front of him. If I ran I was sure he would charge, so I put my rain poncho over my head, squatted to almost a kneeling position, and crawled toward him. His head went lower and he kept digging with his front feet. Suddenly I jumped as high as I could and let out a scream. The bull jumped, too, but turned in midair and ran away. The farmer laughed like hell when I told him.

The regiment moved to Van Courtland Park at the upper end of New York City and set up camp. We pitched pyramidal tents, each holding a squad of eight men. The tents were in rows and each row was assigned to a company. This was known in those days as a staging area and was to be temporary.

Since all our supplies and baggage had to be moved with us, each company had its own horse or mule-drawn wagon which looked like the old covered wagon. It was drawn by four mules and followed the troops who marched ahead.

Here is where I made my first mistake. I volunteered to drive the wagon for Company K. Four mules were assigned to me. Dynamite, Mayflower, Rose Bud, and ******* were their names. Immediately Dynamite became a problem.

The stable sergeant was a burly guy from Texas who knew a lot about mules. Dynamite had the nasty habit of kicking when tied to the picket line. The sergeant was trying to break him of the habit, so he used me as the guinea pig. He was trying to tell me what to do when a mule kicks. "When a horse kicks, run away.” "When a mule kicks, run into him.

So the experiment began on a bright Sunday morning after church. I pulled Dynamite's tail and leaned into his *******. The mule let go with both hind legs and I landed ten feet away in the mud. The stable sergeant laughed and said, "see - you ain't hurt!" I guess Dynamite was sorry, because from then on I was the only one who could lead him to water in a nearby stream. The other three mules were more placid and therefore less inter¬esting.

In October we got orders to move. The wagons were left behind, but the mules and horses were going with us. With me riding Dynamite and leading three other mules we left Van Courtland Park and headed down Broadway to 106th Street and then down West End Ave to lower Manhattan, where we drove the mules onto a ferry for New Jersey. My family came to see me off, and were surprised to see me riding a mule instead of marching with a rifle on my shoulder.

After putting the mules on a train all of the stable boys reported to their respective companies and were removed from further duties with the mules. We had no idea where we were headed. Several days later we arrived at Spartanburg, South Carolina, which was to be our final training ground before being shipped overseas to France.

The 2nd Infantry Division from upper New York State joined us overnight, so we grew twice as large. Instead of five hundred men to a company, we ended with one thousand. My mules were gone, so I drilled and sweated with the men during combat exercises and rugged cross-country hikes.

Pyramidal tents holding eight men, called a squad, were pitched in company streets of thirty to a row. At the far end of each street or row was the company latrine. We were placed in squads according to height, so I, being over six feet tall, was in squad #1, and the head of the squad was a six foot three inch Corporal Dickinson.

Our First Sergeant was a jovial but lazy guy who, whenever there was a dirty job to be done, couldn't get past our squad tent, so we got most of the nasty work to do. Squad #1 was being imposed upon and one day I objected. Corporal Dickinson took me behind the latrine, and with a few fisticuffs, taught me to obey orders without complaining. From then on he and I became close friends as you will see later.

The training was rigorous and rough, and cold weather came to stay in November. The tents were not warm, and the temperature dropped fast. During this winter of 1917-1918 the thermometer dropped to five below zero. The fountain in the town square froze solid and we shivered at night under four woolen blankets. The Quartermaster issued each tent a Sibley Stove, which was a metal cone. The stove sat on a box of sand and a pipe ran up the center pole of the tent and out the top. To keep from catching fire, the wood center pole had to be wrapped with asbestos. Then the fun started! The wood supply issued to us was enough to keep the tent warm for only a few hours. Not only that, but the sparks from the stove came back down on the tent. We would lie on our cots and watch the red circles of fire on the tent get bigger and bigger. So they issued us spark catchers for the top of the pipe. When in place the spark catchers got plugged up and smoke drove us out of the tent!

Corporal Dickinson and I decided we needed more wood, so to a woodlot we went one night, and cut enough wood for our squad supply to last the night. Other squads found out what we had done, so they went out too. The trouble was that large pine trees were being cut down and hauled in.

The farmers complained to the General about the thievery going on, and a strict "General Order" was issued which stated that no wood larger than six inches in diameter was to be cut and brought into camp. We obeyed this order, of course, but we climbed the pine trees, cut off the top, then the branches on the way down, so all wood hauled in complied with the dimensions specified. The next day we looked over to the woodlot and saw what looked like telephone poles! Finally, in desperation the army issued us coal to burn in the Sibley Stoves.

With the joining of the two regiments our name was changed to the 105th Regiment of the 27th Division, U.S. Army. More officers were needed, and an officers training school was organized by Division Headquarters. Competition was held and candidates applied from all units. At this time I was a private in the first squad of Company K of the 105th Regiment and had a clean record of service to date. First Lieutenant Atkinson, who was the leader of our platoon, asked me if I wanted to apply for admission to the Officer Candidate School. After several days, and with the encouragement of Corporal Dickinson, I decided to try.

One evening I was called to Captain Hall's tent for a personal interview and had to respond quickly to questions that a committee of officers tossed at me. They were judging quickness of response and the quality of reply. I remember one question vividly: "What is your definition of democracy?" I forget my reply, but it must have been good because I won the competition and was transferred to Officers Candidate School.

This appointment entitled me to wear sergeant stripes and a special white ribbon insignia on my left sleeve. The pay rose from $30.00 a month to $60.00, so I took out a Government Life Insurance policy for $10,000 with my mother as beneficiary.

The Division was an infantry unit entirely. We concentrated on infantry tactics, self defense, bayonet drill, and rifle practice. The machine gun was coming into use more and more. We had to break down and reassemble the rifle and the machine gun with our eyes blind-folded. Gas masks were worn frequently to make us aware of sudden gas attacks, and we actually went through gas chambers. Tests were given frequently, and our ranks grew thinner by depletion of unqualified members. The scholastic aptitude test was just coming into vogue in the educational world, and we all took it for further justification of our being in the school. General information tests were also given to us, and I remember the questions: "What is a Macintosh Red?" and "What is Stone & Webster?” I knew the first as an apple, and the second as an engineering company in Boston. Since I was a farm boy from a New England school I knew the second. Most of my buddies answered "a raincoat" to the first question, and "l don’t know" to the second one.

The 'Red Cross organized dances and parties with girls from nearby Converse College for Women. I met a cute southern belle and was invited to the college to hear a music recital. I was beginning to get interested in music, but didn't have much time for it.

In early April the school was coming to a close. After ninety days of grueling drill and training we approached grad¬uation day when we would get our commissions as 2nd Lieutenants. The day finally arrived and about one hundred and fifty of us lined up to begin the march to the auditorium, and graduation ceremonies. The regimental band was playing while the Captain, Commandant of the School, took up his position in front of us. He bellowed out: "Any one here under twenty one years of age take one step forward.” Proudly I stepped out, with three others to accompany me, and received orders to go to his tent immediately. Lt. Jessup was in the tent awaiting us to tell us that a divis¬ional order had just been received to the effect that no one under twenty-one years of age was to receive a commission.

The four of us were entitled to wear sergeant stripes and to keep our white sleeve stripe to indicate our successful completion of the Officer Candidate School Program. Then we were given a two weeks leave. So I went home to New York. I was home for ten days when I got a telegram to report back immediately, since the division was moving out.

Every soldier believed the rumor that we were going to Mineola, Long Island, New York for shipment overseas. You could hear the cry "Mineola" from all parts of the camp, day and night. "MINEOLA" became our battle cry from then on. Instead we arrived at Newport News, Virginia, boarded the USS Grant, and were jammed in like sardines. The officers got the state rooms on the upper decks, while all non-commissioned officers and privates went below to sleep in hammocks.

Since I held the rank of sergeant officer candidate, I was placed in a stateroom with two second lieutenants.

The ship left port on or about April 20th, and was met at sea with about forty ships of all descriptions. The convoy was formed. Troop ships occupied the center position in a long line. Ships carrying ammunition and equipment were on the outside of these, flanked by destroyers and submarines. Several times during the journey the destroyers dropped "depth charges" when it was believed German submarines were lurking nearby.

After three days at sea, I got an order to report to the Colonel, whose stateroom was on the upper deck. He gave me a choice of either remaining a sergeant and being assigned to another company, or returning to my old company with my former rank of private. It seems they had no place for an officer candidate in the table of organization.

I chose to remain with my old company and friends in squad one, and Corporal Dickinson. Assuming the rank of private, I was removed from the stateroom and ordered below to a hammock near the engine room. The rest of the trip was uneventful. We arrived at Brest in France on May 2nd. On entering the harbor we were amazed at the beauty and color of the hills covered with blue and yellow flowers. All was quiet and peaceful when we disembarked, and we were fed by colored troops manning the field kitchens on the docks. I heard one black boy remark, as he tossed a ladle full of beans on my mess kit, "Boy, tonight I sees my Mademoiselle! The French girls like us. We told them we are des¬cendants of the real American Indians, and because we're black, we're night fighters only!"

We made a temporary camp in a field at the top of a hill near a large hospital. Corporal Dickinson and I shared the same pup tent, and with nothing much to do Dickinson treated each member of the squad to a bottle of cognac on the condition that we drink it down immediately so we wouldn't get caught dis¬obeying orders. I had never tasted alcohol before and this stuff was awful. How much of the cognac I drank I don't know, but evidently enough to make me pass out. They found me under a bush behind a stone wall over which I had fallen.

The Division was attached to the British, so we were put on English field rations and issued the English Lee-Enfield rifles, and wore the snub nosed English boot. We were then sent up to the trenches in the English sector in Belgium.

We hiked all the way with seventy pound packs. The morale of the British troops was at a very low ebb. We passed them as they were on the way back from the 'Front’. Our Division was to relieve them of front line duty. One of the regiments we relieved was the famous Scottish Black Watch Regiment. We could hear the bagpipes from quite a distance. When they passed us they presented quite a sight, with their kilts swaying in rhythm with the music.

The regiment finally reached Abbeville in Belgium before we were within range of the big German guns. The ground was very wet and we sloshed through mud wherever we went. The training trenches were shallow and we had to bend down to keep our heads below the parapet. Mud was deep at the bottom of the trenches, often up to our knees. Shell holes covered the landscape from the terrific shelling of the past three years. The French had been in this area at the beginning of the war in 1914, and were slaughtered. It was claimed that sixty thousand Frenchmen died trying to advance up Mount Kemmel, which the Germans occupied. The English troops took over the northern sector later, and the French troops moved south to France.

The U.S. Army's 27th Division took over the sector from the British. Some English soldiers were left behind to train us in trench warfare. Finally we reached the front line. The enemy trenches were one hundred yards from ours, and very often much closer. There was at this time a lull in the fighting, and neither side wanted to start anything. So we watched and waited.

This area was called Flanders, and much was written about it during the early years of the war when the Germans first used gas against the British troops at Ypres. German artillery fired at us sporadically, mainly to tear holes in the trenches and hopefully to cause many casualties. The food consisted of "Bully Beef" and hard tack. The English troops claimed that the beef was "fifty-fifty" - one horse and one rabbit!

At night we watched the light streaks on the large German shells as they passed overhead in the moonlight. Rats the size of cats were everywhere, grown fat off the human carcasses in the shell holes. Mud was so deep we couldn't lie down to sleep when off guard duty, so whatever sleep we got was obtained by leaning against the front of the trench.

Gas shells landed near us, and we were constantly alerted by a loud gong sound when gas came. We were fired at by high velocity shells, mortars, machine guns and rifle bullets, and once in a while by German rifle grenades. Our own artillery, in order to give us close coverage, would sometimes fall short and blast us from the rear. Flares were frequently used both day and night to signal our artillery to increase range or to stop firing. Flares were also used to light up "No Man's Land" in a brilliant white light, which lasted a fairly long time, so we could see if there was a German attack coming.

My promotion to Corporal arrived at the same time Dickinson was promoted to Sergeant. He became the platoon sergeant and I took his place as corporal of the first squad.

Gas warfare was horrible. There were gases to make you sneeze, to cry, to nauseate you, to burn, and to kill. The sneezing and tear gas was used first to prevent you from keeping your gas mask on, followed by or mixed with chlorine or phosgene to kill. Phosgene smelled like new mown hay and often could not be detected in time to save some lives. Mustard gas burned the body as well as the lungs. Phosgene gas had delayed action on the lungs. It melted the lungs away gradually. Chlorine and mustard gases were easily detected by their acrid smell.

On the fourth day of front line duty a Lieutenant Turner came to our trench and asked for two non-commissioned officers to accompany him on a patrol. A German machine gun was raking the open part of our line and causing many casualties, and had to be destroyed. It was my second mistake, but I volunteered to go with him.

After a full explanation of the method of attack, and when it was dark, the three of us crawled out in a V formation, under the barbed wire into "no man's land.” We each took a revolver, gas-mask, a steel helmet, two grenades, and three empty bully beef cans. Lt. Turner also had a ball of heavy twine.

In front of the gap in the trench the two of us handed the tin cans to Turner, who tied them in a cluster to the barbed wire, then attached the ball of twine to the string holding the group of tin cans. Unwinding the ball of twine, we crawled forward toward the German lines. I was on the right rear, Sergeant Elliot on the left rear of Lt. Turner, but close enough to touch his foot as a signal if we saw anyone coming. Arriving almost to the enemy's position, Lt. Turner yanked on the twine and the cans rattled. The German machine gun opened fire. By sound and sight the machine gun nest was located, and close enough to us to receive several of our grenades. The gun was silenced and we returned back home the same way we had come. Lt. Turner, it turned out, was the regimental patrol officer from whom I learned much more about patrolling later on. For this little trip he recommended me for promotion, which didn't come for several months.

The big event came several days later. The 1st platoon of company K was ordered to make a night raid to test the enemy's strength, and to bring back some prisoners. We had very few commissioned officers at the time because of their absence to attend a school on the use of the Browning automatic rifle we were to receive later, as well as the Lewis machine gun.

Sergeant Dickinson was put in charge of the raid, but before we went over-the-top he called together six corporals, including me, who were squad commanders, and told them that I was to lead the party, since he felt I knew more of such things because of my Officer Candidate School training.

Our artillery opened up and fired at the German front line. The plan was to fire for three minutes, then raise the sights of the guns to hit the second line of trenches for four minutes. Since the artillery was under command of the English Royal Artillery we expected some of the shells might fall short. As we advanced, however, the barrage lifted on time, and we found the first line of trenches empty of Germans. Proceeding to the next row of trenches, we captured three German, soldiers, so I figured we had accomplished our mission. Our platoon suffered no casualties. The enemy was slowly withdrawing to higher ground.

Exactly one week from duty in the front line we moved back to the reserve area for a rest. We were glad to leave the stench, the muck, yes, even the beautiful singing of the lark "scarce heard amidst the guns below." The relief came by another regiment of our own division.

After one hour of hiking toward the rear, my feet felt like stubs, completely numb. When we stopped marching for a ten minute break, I took off my shoes and spiral puttees, and found my feet and ankles were black! By soaking them in a roadside stream and rubbing them furiously circulation returned. I found out later that I had developed "trench feet,” caused by standing in mud for so long.

When we got to the rest area we had much more freedom of movement, although we still had to live in trenches. Artillery guns were all around us and kept up incessant firing.

While in the rest area, the regimental headquarters held many training schools, mainly for learning about the English Lewis machine gun and the Browning automatic rifle. I attended sessions on patrolling with Lt. Turner the teacher. I learned that a patrol of from one to three persons was a reconnaissance patrol sent out to gather information. If two opposing patrols came close to each other they passed quietly by. The enemy patrol was out to get information and so were we. Therefore we ignored each other. Five to eight people constituted a combat patrol and had orders to shoot at anything that moved. Purpose: to destroy and capture, or to feel out the enemy's strength. Over eight people on a patrol was a raiding party.

The regiment was now in the third line of defense, so we relaxed a bit from the nervous tension of the past week. At night we could sleep out flat on the ground. The area was devoid of trees, and the landscape was pockmarked with shell holes.

In July, the 27th Division moved south to Amiens, France. A big fight was expected to take place in this area, and there was a huge concentration of American and Australian troops. French troops were close to the south of us while the English remained to the north in Belgium and Northern France.

The Division took up a defensive position in the Somme Valley, for it was believed the Germans were about to attack, to attempt to encircle Paris. All units were at full strength, and for the first time we got acquainted with the thirty ton tanks the British brought over from England. We learned to fight alongside and in front of them, and to cooperate in maneuvers.

The "Hindenburg Line,” which the Germans held and claimed could never be broken, stretched for miles north and south.

There were natural obstacles such as rivers and hills to conquer, but in addition the Germans had built huge concrete fortifi¬cations. A barge canal went underground for seven miles, which the French had built many years ago. German troops were housed on barges and could be evacuated from the tunnel by passage ways to the ground every one hundred yards. All this I found out after the battle.

On September 24, 1918 we moved into position at the north end of the tunnel and waited. We were shelled and shot at constantly from the hill in front of us by machine guns.

Lt. Turner came looking for men to go on a patrol with him. About five or six of us constituted the combat patrol and were to silence several machine guns which were causing us too many casualties. About 4:30 A.M. we started out, crawling through the barbed wire with instructions to cover the lieutenant with rifle fire as we approached the target area. Turner threw a grenade in the first machine gun nest, then immediately charged the second, the third, pulled his revolver and charged the fourth when he was hit and fell dead and out of sight in a trench. Later I was to verify the heroism of this man, for which he received the Congressional Medal of Honor, posthumously. More about him later.

On September 27th, a day I will never forget, at 4:30 A.M. a large thirty ton tank snuck up behind me. The driver tossed a spool of broad white ribbon at me and asked me to roll the ribbon out into "no man's land" in the direction of the German front line. This was to be the tank driver’s guide at the start of the attack. All watches were synchronized exactly, and at 4:45 A.M. the officers' whistles blew for us to go over the top and into combat. The cry of "Mineola" was heard all along the line. Tanks moved forward, our machine guns opened fire shooting close over our heads, and our artillery opened with a deafening roar. The Germans fired everything they had at us, including smoke shells and white phosphorus. The valley was covered with smoke, and as we picked our way through the haze we were met by German infantry and fought in hand to hand combat. Gaining the top of the hill over the canal tunnel, we were fired at from the rear by German troops emerging from the many tunnel exits behind us. Later it was claimed we went too far too fast and didn't "mop-up" enough. We fought all day long, and as night came the 5th Australian Division leap-frogged us and went on out to open country beyond. We broke the Hindenburg Line, which was the Germans’ last big line of defense. Casualties were high and estimated to be over fifty percent. Seventy percent of our commissioned officers were killed or wounded, and those that were left were exhausted. I saw a German soldier through the smoke and haze sitting on the ground, his left shoulder blown away, and crying out to me "Mercy Kamarade,” and begging someone to shoot him.

Ten million rounds of machine gun bullets were fired over the two American divisions, the 27th and 30th, both numbering thirty thousand men, and I fear some of our men were killed by our own rifle fire.

On the 29th our division was sent back for rest and to revitalize the units with fresh replacements.

On October 3rd we were ordered forward again to replace the Australians who had battled about fifteen miles beyond the tunnel and had encountered stiff resistance. The Germans began their big retreat at this time, and we were sent in to the advance area to drive them back to Germany. The fighting from here on was in open country, so we used Indian Tactics by jumping out of bushes and hedges, and hiding in sunken roads to catch them unaware.

On October 5th at ten A.M. I got my promotion to Sergeant. At 4:30 P.M. Col. Trew called me to Regimental Headquarters, and in the presence of Captain Frost I was sworn in as a commissioned 2nd Lieutenant in the U.S. Army. The order for my promotion came from General Pershing's headquarters and waived my age requirement of twenty one for a commission.

Proud as a peacock, I walked back to my unit, but Sergeant Dickinson would not let me in his pup tent. "I refuse to sleep with a Lieutenant,” he said! After much Tom foolery he shook my hand and remarked: "You can't keep a good man down."

With my commission came a change of command, and I was assigned to Company C of the 106th Infantry Regiment. As much as I hated to leave my buddies, orders are orders, and I left at night, all alone, to find my new company somewhere up front.

Arriving at my new company headquarters, Captain Brown gave me my first assignment: to write to the parents of Lt. Foley in upper New York State, telling them that their son had been killed at the Hindenburg Line, and sending his effects. I replaced Lt. Foley as a platoon leader.

My commission was dated September 23rd, before the Hindenburg battle, but I didn't know it until October 5th. The pay jumped from $70.00 a month to $126.00, which wasn't too much because as a commissioned officer I had to buy my own clothes.

As I said before, we were now fighting in open country. Small towns dotted the farm lands, and our regiment was ordered to pursue and keep in touch with the enemy at all times. In their retreat the Germans were using mustard gas and chlorine shells to try to delay our advance. They were also poisoning the well water supply as they retreated. Water wagons kept us supplied with water which had large amounts of chlorine added.

The town of St. Souplet is on the LaSalle River. We had orders to advance across the river and to keep as close as we could to the enemy.

The night before the attack I was ordered out on a patrol since I had become regimental patrol officer after Lt. Turner died. The Germans rattled around at night and we could hear some commotion across the river. My orders were to find the depth of the river at its midpoint, and to find out if a small bridge across it was still intact. This required utter stealth, so I went alone.

After dark I walked about four hundred yards through grass and shrubs which were soaked with mustard gas. Getting to the river bank, I left my revolver and helmet on the bank, and securing my gas mask on top of my head I waded in quietly, scarce causing a ripple on the water. I could see Germans on the opposite bank, and could see men under the bridge who were making a clanking noise. Halfway across the river the depth of the water was up to my chin, so I estimated it to be six feet deep at the middle. On the way back I followed the river for a while to see if I could get more information and found large amounts of mustard gas fumes still clinging to the grass and bushes. My feet and legs were burning, so I headed back to our lines. The password that night was "Kanu!” To get back into safe territory and to the safety of our troops, and if challenged by a sentry, I had to say "Kanu.”

I thought I had reached our territory, but there was no sentry. I couldn't find our front line. I walked around and yelled "Kanu!" hoping to locate my regiment. What I actually located was a large gap in our lines. Reaching headquarters at 1:00 A.M. I reported my findings and returned to my unit to discover we were about to advance.

What I reported to regimental headquarters had been enough to make changes in the plan of attack, and to cross the river:

(1) Reinforcements were sent to close the gap in our lines.

(2) Tanks were employed.

(3) The bridge was to be blown up by the Germans.

(4) The river was six feet deep.

Returning to my company at 2:30 A.M. I was greeted with the news that the attack would take place at 4:30 A.M.

The Germans were waiting for us. They shelled us heavily with smoke, and for a while, with gas. We advanced in single-file, wearing gas masks and holding on to the bayonet scabbard of the man ahead, like a train of elephants holding the tail of the one in front. The monster tanks preceded us to the river and started across, then stopped, each one close to the one in front. A battalion of engineers brought up large planks and placed them on top of the tanks, which allowed us to pass over them, as over a bridge. The Germans had blown up the bridge. With a whistle in my mouth and a compass in my hand I led my platoon over the river under cover of the smoke from the German artillery shells.

The Germans, in their retreat, were blowing up anything of military significance: railroad tracks, locomotives, houses. Our progress was slowed down by huge lines of French refugees returning to what used to be their homes and farms. We captured small towns and fought from house to house, capturing many enemy troops whose morale was low, and who seemed willing to surrender. Then we arrived at the town of Arbre Guernon. There we met stiff resistance and took cover in a sunken road.

Colonel Ward ordered me out on a patrol to gather as much information as I could about the enemy's intentions. With two non-commissioned officers, I was proceeding up the hill toward the enemy line when machine gun fire pinned us down. Since it was broad daylight, we had to jump from hole to hole as we went forward.

Suddenly, when almost to the top of the hill, two Germans came out of the ground with their hands up yelling "Kamarade!" I ordered them back into the hole to avoid being hit and went in with them. I took from them two guns and a German field map. One gun was a Mauser and the other was a smaller Luger. The map proved to be of extreme importance, for it showed in detail what the future plans of the Germans were. After dark I returned to regimental headquarters, dismissed the two men who had accompanied me, and presented the guns and the map to Col. Ward. He kept the Mauser and the map, and let me keep the Luger, which I still have as a souvenir. The two German prisoners of war I turned over to him also. This was my last patrol.

On October 18th we advanced about fifteen miles and found stiff resistance at a farm house, which we took with heavy casualties. Captain Brown was hit in the face with a piece of shrapnel and was evacuated to the field hospital for treatment. I was put in charge of the company and proceeded on to finally capture the farm buildings. Previously our artillery had leveled many trees in the orchard around the farm buildings, so we took up our position in and behind the fallen trees. Our ranks were so depleted I had to order the mess sergeants and cooks to drop their ladles and forks and grab rifles and grenades and join us up front. The "Knoll” was our final front line location before (after two weeks in the front lines) we were ordered back to a rest area.

Given three days of nothing to do, the soldiers spent several hours "de-lousing" themselves. Everyone had what the French called “cooties," or in other words - body lice. Cooties were hard-shelled, and we cracked them between our thumb nails as we went along the seam in the shirt or trousers where they hid. The army sent up fumigation units to fumigate our clothes to kill the little beasties. Large public shower baths were constructed to handle fifty men at a time. One minute was allowed to soap up with strong naptha soap, and one minute to rinse the soap off. Water was scarce and was brought in by huge water trucks.

To keep in shape we played games, mostly soccer and volley ball. The regimental chaplain secured the equipment, and arranged a schedule of contests between companies. It was thought we would be in the rest area two weeks.

While playing soccer one day I twisted my right leg and injured the old football knee. The knee swelled to twice its normal size, and I was sent to a base hospital in Etretat, on the Channel coast of France, to rest my leg completely.

I can't express the joy and comfort of sleeping in a soft, white bed, and being attended to by the beautiful young English and Scottish nurses. The hospital was staffed by a medical unit of the Presbyterian Hospital from New York City. The officers' hospital was on top of a cliff overlooking the English Channel, and was housed in a lovely chateau. The enlisted personnel were in an old casino on the beach below.

A cute Scottish girl, Janet Aitkin, came into my life at this time. She was the night nurse in my section and I waited patiently all day for her arrival on duty. I faked pain in my right leg just to have her massage it. I was not allowed to get out of bed for one week, but as the swelling went down I was permitted to walk about on crutches. Date: November 6, 1918.

Officer patients in the hospital had to censor all mail as a special duty. There were stacks and stacks of mail from the nurses’ quarters and from the enlisted men. As my leg healed I was allowed to take short walks along the cliff with Janet, or stop at a place for tea in the afternoon. She seemed very interested in me and we became sweethearts until one day when I opened an unsealed envelope to censor a letter. It was written by Janet expressing her undying love and affection, and it was addressed to a Captain Hargreaves of the 5th Australian Artillery. Since I enjoyed her company so much I said nothing about the letter until the day she came to the train station to see me off. As I kissed her goodbye I said to her, "Give my best wishes to Captain Hargreaves."

The Armistice was signed on November 11, 1918, the same day I was promoted to 1st Lieutenant at nineteen years of age. I could not sign the "Oath of Office" until I returned to my regiment later. A "false" armistice was reported to us on the 6th of November, when every patient who could move went to town to celebrate. When the 11th of November arrived, and the true armistice was declared, no one did much about it.

Leaving the hospital on November 20th, I took leave for a week and went to Paris, after which I joined my Division which had moved to Le Mans. In December, 1918, the great flu epidemic hit in France and soldiers were dropping like flies. It was reported that the epidemic caused five hundred and forty eight thousand deaths in the United States, and twenty million worldwide.

In February I was ordered to leave for home on the USS Rochambeau with an advance party. Camp Upton, Long Island was to be our demobilization center, and I had the job of arranging for the barracks, and making all arrangements for the arrival of the Division.

When the 27th Division arrived later in New York the place went wild. It was insisted that the Division parade up 5th Avenue. All of us were anxious to get out of the army and go back home. We had the parade. The crowd forced us into a very narrow line of march, only four men abreast. Papers headlined: “They broke the Hindenburg Line!”

Back at camp, General Nicholson called me to his office to tell me that West Point wanted some of the younger officers to apply for admission in order for them to qualify for a Regular Army commission. He talked to me for at least an hour, but I refused to accept the offer to apply and was discharged on April 2, 1919 with the intention of returning to Loomis.

EPISODE #6 - RETURN TO LOOMIS (1919)

When I telephoned Mr. Batchelder at Loomis he accepted me immediately on the same conditions as before, to complete my third year of high school. I picked up the course of studies I had left (without agriculture) because I wanted to go to college or to work the following year.

Most schools had terminated the study of German because of the war, but Mr. B. hired a private tutor for me so I could prepare for the College Entrance Exam in that subject. I tried to pick up geometry where I had left off two years before, but Mr. Mather, although very sympathetic, said he could not give me a passing grade for the year. Up to this time I had accumulated only four and one-half acceptable credits of the fifteen required for admission to college.

Columbia University in New York was admitting students purely on the College Aptitude Test, which was developed by a Dr. Wood of the Columbia faculty. In June I went to New York, took the test, passed it, and was admitted for the fall term in 1919.

Mr. B., headmaster of Loomis, told me that if and when I graduated from college he would send me a diploma from Loomis back dated to June 1919.

After the experience of being in command of two hundred and fifty men in the army, most of whom where older than I, it was a little distasteful to ask for permission to go over to town to get a chocolate milk shake!

Two brothers, Roland and Phillip Cobb, who taught at Loomis, hired me to be a counselor at their summer camp in Maine after school closed. Goodbye to Loomis, the place I still love.

Arriving at the camp in Denmark, Maine, I was put to work pitching Army tents to house the boys, and doing carpenter work on the docks and piers. There were three divisions of campers, each under separate supervision of a head counselor. I was assigned to the senior division under supervision of Professor William Hawley Davis of Bowdoin College. I was put in charge of horseback riding classes for the entire three divisions. Roland Cobb, who had returned from the war in France and who had served with the 30th Division previously mentioned herein, had overall charge of the senior camp. He and I spent many hours discussing the Hindenburg Line where we both had fought.

Toward the end of the summer Professor Davis suggested that I go to Bowdoin in the fall instead of Columbia, to which I had been admitted. By his pulling a few strings he arranged to have me admitted as a special student for two years. Dean Nixon, the director of admissions, told me that at a special meeting of the faculty I would be admitted under the following conditions:

1.As a special student I could not take part in any varsity athletics.

2.By examination, and within two years, I had to pass subjects in the ten and one half units I was short for admission.

3.I had to attend college classes normally prescribed for all freshmen and sophomore students, and was required to receive passing grades.

4.At the end of two years, if I qualified, I could then become a regular student, and, if not, I would have to leave the college.